Kevin Blake's Blog

Limassol is awesome right now. I’m sitting on my balcony with rain beating down outside in the middle of a storm (no I’m not getting wet, there’s another balcony above me).

On our trip into the Troodos Mountains, we were told Cyprus hardly ever gets rain. 2500ml a year or something. Well, it’s been raining all day, so this must be it for them!

I started out this morning heading east out of the hotel. Away from Limassol, and towards the big hilly area I’d seen from the road, wondering what lie beyond it. After leaving what I thought was the last hotel behind me, I found myself on a quiet road, which appeared to have no pavement, or anywhere to walk on. So I hoped down to the beach intending to carry on the rest of my walk down there where there was a really nice path, with small “bridgeways” built to get past the rocky areas of the coast. It is a really nice area, the sun was shining, the waves crashing against the rocks below (they don’t “crash” much in the bays around Limassol, the sea defences take care of that). In fact, I could quite happily stare at the sea for hours in that spot. So, I did.

A little further on, is a very small village, which slowly opens up into a huge sprawling metropolis of … unfinished buildings. Yes, the new housing estates of Cyprus are popping up everywhere. Financed by such companies as “Barclays Bank”. I got the impression that a lot of these new developments were catered towards the more overseas retirement market than the general wine-producing population of Cyprus.

Anyway, after exploring that for a little while, I headed back to the beach with the intention of slowly heading back towards Limassol. As I sat and read the end of The Concrete Blonde. I thought “it’s quite windy”, and as I started to head back I thought “there are a lot of clouds today”. While crossing one of the bridges across the rocks I thought “was that rain? No, it’s not possible – it must be ocean spray” … and then the heavens opened.

I actually feel rather fortunate to be in Cyprus while it’s raining. Just a few days ago I wondered what it would be like. A few years ago I visited Malta during the middle of February. Malta is supposed to be gorgeous sunshine for all but about 5 days in the year – where it rains heavily. Because of that, they don’t really care about small things like rain – so when it does rain – there is quite a large flood problem on the hilly roads.

There was nothing at all like that in Cyprus. This rain hasn’t exactly clogged the streets, and there appears to be more than adequate drainage. Nobody’s been running through the city screaming of the end of the world, nor dancing in the streets. With the exception of a few shop workers coming to watch from under the cover of their shopfronts, everyone’s gone about their business as if nothing’s different to the day before. All a bit dissapointing really Perhaps it rained last week, too.

Since it was nice rain … Wait, nice rain? I have different classifications for rain. Most of the rain we get in England is kinda crap. You can’t get wet from it, but your clothes will always be soggy. It’s the sort of rain you have to run into to really feel, otherwise it just hangs in the air. You also have really cool monsoon style rain. The kind you rarely see in England, where you walk outside for 2 seconds, and you’ll drown. This is my favourite kind of rain. I love watching it, I love being out in it. It’s the sort of rain that you get in the movies. A farmer tending his dry crop, nothing will grow. Then boom, God brings the rain, the family run out into it screaming and yelling it’s a miracle, dancing outside and laughing into the heavens. Water brings life – when it rains like that, it’s great to be alive; and that’s how it makes me feel

In between those two, is the sort of rain we had in Cyprus today. It’s the sort of rain that smells fantastic. You can walk in it, but not get soaked instantly, and it doesn’t take long to dry out, because it’s not all around you like the small crap rain. Huge blobs of water, a fresh feeling, and the smell of electricity in the air I hope that some of you know what I’m talking about…

I went down onto the beach around sunset, and walked out across the stones that jut out into the sea. I watched the sunset for a while, before I saw flashes of lightning in the distance. Out came the camera, and a really cool mode that lets me hold down the button, and it will just keep taking photos. Approx 1 every second I’d guess. After filling the memory 4 tiimes, I think I have 3 really good lightning pictures, which I hope turn out as good as they look on the small screen.

I wasn’t going to write anything this evening, because it’s been quite a lazy day But one other interesting thing happened on the way back to my hotel this evening. Strolling along, I bumped into Shimon whom I work with at MRM. I knew he was coming to Cyprus on his holidays, but I didn’t know when it was, nor where he was going (in fact, he thought I was going to be Larnaca, as did I when I booked the place). So that was a bit strange, and a nice surprise. He’s here for his friends wedding, and staying a couple of miles down the road from my hotel. It really was one of those “small world” moments. I can get over the fact we’re in the same country, and just about that we’re in the same town (let’s face it, there are only really 3 or 4 main tourist options in Cyprus), but the fact we were walking down the same road, at the same time is what got me. I would probably give the same reaction if I met anyone from work in Watford, let alone a different country. I think that probably says something about the way we live

Time to sign off, I find if I don’t get sleep, morning comes around too late for breakfast. Why hotel breakfast rooms close at 10.00, I’ll never know. It should *open* at 10

Today I took the coach to Pafos, and to visit a few of the archaeological sites on the way. We had an extremely good tour guide, who knew a lot about the history of the island, and the politics of today. She also seemed genuinely interested in it herself – which really came through as she was telling us the stories.

Before leaving Limassol, I also learnt a few things about the different areas I had already visited; such as that run-down area which I went to earlier in the week, looking for people who didn’t speak English – that is the Turkish community who refused to leave Limassol when their government ordered it during the 1974 invasion in the North. Approximately 1/3rd of the Turkish people did so. We also drove nearby by to Agios Nikolaos ton Gaton. Where the nuns fed the cats that St Helena brought to the island! What I didn’t know, and that had seemed rather harsh on the cats that were brought here to kill poisonous snakes – the cats are immune to poisonous snake bites. Which is how they’ve come to be known as having 7 souls, around these parts Funny, I thought it was 9 lives. But there you go.

Along the road out of Limassol, and towards Pafos, our first stop was the Ancient City of Curium, where we saw the Greek-Roman theatre, and the house of Eustoilios. All the visible remains are from the Roman period, although the ancient kingdom of Kourion was also on the spot. The Greek-Roman theatre was something I’d really wanted to see. It was one of the photos that I looked at, and was one of the deciding factors in the “oh, I want to go there” scale. And it looked really nice, it’s on top of this cliff face that overlooks the sea and there’s a really impressive view below out and over the theatre. The theatre itself has been destroyed many times, due to earthquakes and the tsunami that came straight through Curium eventually destroying the magnificent city. Some 20,000 people used to live in the city (as far as they can tell) – which is really quite huge for such a small island, in 5 A.D. Including a couple that have been nicknamed Romeo and Juliet, as their remains were found in their bed wrapped closely together believed to have been killed as the tsunami swept through.

Back on the road, we passed through the the huge British military base on the south of the island, (Episkopi). We drove through the base for a huge amount of time actually, because it’s massive – and looks a lot more like an enormous holiday resort than a military base. The Limassol – Pafos road runs straight through the middle of it, but only vehicles are allowed to use it (no walkers), and none of the Cypriot public are allowed in the British controlled area. For this privilege, we Brits are supposed to be paying Cyprus a huge bag of money in rent every year. However, as tour lady pointed out. It’s never been paid. Instead, the British government say they’ve paid it elsewhere, in U.N. payments, and *cough cough* candy *cough mumble* and pocket money *cough* and stuff.

There are even Cyprus villages on the edge of this base, within the borders. People who we’ve (the Brits) so very kindly let stay there, as long as they don’t build hotels, or attract any more people to live there! It’s amazing we as a country have this kind of hold on any other countries, still. I’m sure the empire disbanded quite a while ago now. I’m surprised other world governments aren’t a lot more pissed off with us instead – but it must be our winning smiles and charming good looks that make them all bend over backwards for us

Anyway, birth of Cyprus, Aphrodite’s birthplace, and all of that stuff. That was our next stop A little café that overlooks the birthplace, a set of 3 rocks that spread out into the sea. The rumour is, on a full moon at midnight, if you swim around the middle rock (Aphrodite’s) 3 times – you’ll become 20 years younger instantly. We even saw some people trying it – but …. well … it wasn’t midnight, and there wasn’t a full moon – sorry guys. So why the birthplace of Aphrodite? Sorry, I think my greek mythology is going to get a bit mixed up here, but I’ll do my best to remember. I’ve forgotten most of the names I’m afraid – I’ll do my best to look them up when I get back and maybe insert them here. So there’s the daddy god of all god’s. I don’t think that’s Zeus, he’s just the leader, head of the superhero’s. And there’s the mummy god. She’s pretty important too. They have loads of baby gods, and the youngest of them (he’s one of the evil ones in the Age of Mythology, Hades, or one of them), walks in on mummy and daddy god having sex. He’s a bit annoyed, so takes the harsh action of cutting off his dads testicles, and throwing them down to earth. Well, they land on earth, but daddy god’s a bit fertile, and impregnates Mother Earth, or nature. And then, presumeably 9 months go by, and voila (our tour guide said voila a LOT), Aphrodite emerges from this rock on the Cyprus coastline.

And that’s your idiots guide to Greek Mythology. As I say, I might look this one up when I get back. And rewrite this. So I can see exactly what I (if not all), I got wrong

It is a gorgeous area though. Ali, you would have loved it. I wish we could have spent more time there, and maybe gone down onto the beach closer to the rocks. Maybe next time

Leaving my crap mythology behind for a little while – we drove onto the village of Yeroskipou, where we stopped at the Church of St. Paraskevi. This village is really famous for its Cyprus Delights (remember I mentioned them earlier?). In fact, they’re in the Guinness Book of Records for producing the worlds largest Cyprus delight (they’re called Loukoumi) weighing in at a staggering 1.5 tonnes. The boxes I have are only 300g apiece. Remember I thought 7 boxes would be excessive? Well that’s a lot of loukoumi. Say that 10 times in a row.

Back to the church, it’s really old, you’ll see pictures – totally not what you’d expect a church to look like. Again painted completely inside with frescos in a similar way that the Kykkos monestary was. This time, I found out why – though it should have smacked me on the head like it did afterwards, and it probably already did for the rest of you. They’re all painted with scenes from the bible, because everyone’s too poor to own their own bible, or learn to read in most cases. Much the same way that most of churches in England have fantastic stained glass windows. Well the paintings let everyone know the story of Jesus Christ, regardless of if you can afford the Leather bound Bible Set in 12 parts, for only 24.99 a month, or not.

Arriving in Pafos, we first went in for a guided tour of the Roman Mosaics, in a massive archaeological site right next to the harbour. It was a lot like the area near the Colloseum in Rome, but with quite a few less standing structures. However, aside from Rome these are apparantly the best set of Roman Mosaics in the world. They would say that, wouldn’t they?

It was good to have a knowledgable guide for this, as otherwise there would been a lot of “oh, look at the pretty picture, looks like they missed a bit”, but the stories behind the mosaic’s and the mythology surrounding them made them that much more impressive. I know I’m going on a bit, so I’ll skip over most of them. I think the story of Aphrodite has already proven I’m rubbish at these anyway

One mosaic, the story that inspired Shakespeare to write Romeo and Juliet. And there was me thinking he’d come up with it, all this time! Not even Shakespeare in Love revealed the trut (did it?). So, the story is a lot more simplified in this version. Guy and Girl arrange to meet in a cave. The guy goes in and finds his girl sleeping, and a tiger, with blood all around his mouth (it’s been hunting, duh), and thinks the tiger’s killed his love. Not sure how to react to this, he kills himself with his own sword. Then the girl wakes up, and finds *her* love dead, so she takes his sword and kills herself too. The End.

You can call me Will

At the end of the tour, we had a couple of hours free time to explore Pafos, get some lunch and basically do whatever we wanted. So I walked around the Roman ruins for a while, and found a cool looking lighthouse (I say found, it was on top of a hill – not the most difficult game of hide and seek I’ve ever played), and then went to look around the Pafos harbour. It is a really nice city, very clean and new looking. Even moreso than the tourist area of Limassol – but it is also kind of small. I had originally wanted to go to Pafos as my base – but now I’m very glad I was forced into the more central Limassol – as there’s still a lot to do and see, and the rest of the island is far more accessible.

After Pafos, we still have no subway. Another Pizza express, KFC, Burger King, and McDonald’s though. Oh, and a Debenhams. I say that counts because it has a café in it I think there must be a Debenhams in every country in Europe. It’s like Britain’s new flag. “I claim this land in the name of the Queen, and the country of Great Britain. Now go, and have coffee and scones at our new café on the mezzanine floor!”

So, I just got back from the trip around the Troodos Mountains. And it was gorgeous. We passed by Cyprus’ latest dam, and some gorgeous colourful (quite a change from the concrete and beach of Limassol) mountain forests, before stopping at a small village, the highest in Cyprus, at 1400m above sea level. And still they spoke english! Okay, so they get visitors all the time. They’re probably paid by the Cyprus tourism board to learn the language. There are some really nice houses dotted about in the village though, all intertwined with the wine making community and huge grapes everywhere you look. After a coffee, and a quick look around, we got back on the coach and headed towards the the tomb of the first president of Cyprus, the Archbishop Marakios III. Apparantly a poor man that was educated in theology, before getting numerous scholarships including one from the Kykkos Monestary below that allowed him to study in Boston, where he cut short his education upon being elected archbishop of Cyprus. He later became president when Cyprus became a republic, and was re-elected three times before he died in 1976. See, I was paying attention to the tour guide. Or I made all that up. Either way, what do you know or care? Hah! Okay, I’m just asking for trouble.

Anyway, so we went to this tomb, up in the mountains above Kykkos Monestary which he had chosen while still alive, so he could look out over all of Cyprus. And quite right too, the views are gorgeous. As I stood looking across at the tomb, another member of the tour group shoved her husband sharply in the ribs and said “hey, you want a good photo of the tomb, get a picture of that solider opposite in it. It’s only a model anyway”. And the solider’s shifted across to where we were standing. Yep, no model. He has to stand guard over the tomb all day. What a job. At least he gets to carry a gun I suppose. Presumeably in case Makarios rises from the dead. Okay, that was bad taste, I take it back.

A small walk from the tomb, is the Virgin Mary’s throne. Let me give a little background here. The Kykkos Monestary is dedicated to the Virgin Mary, and also contains a painting, believed to have been painted by one of Jesus’s disciples, Luke. Nobody’s allowed to look at it, on account of not being worthy enough to look upon the face of the Virgin Mary, or Jesus. But there are lots of replicas (and the real painting in the monestary is also covered with a cloth replica). One of the powers this painting is believed to have, is to end drought, that often plagues Cyprus (they don’t get much rainful). So the painting, as recently as 3 years ago, is often moved to this high point at the Virgin Mary’s throne on top of the mountain, for prayer and service – to stop drought, or end wars, and stuff like that.

But now they’ve decided it’s a lot of effort to keep moving it, and the original stays where it is – and the shiny replica stays on top. Best all round I suppose. But some might say it removes a bit of the mysticism.

So, onwards and … downwards, to Kykkos Monestary. I’ve never been to a monestary before, but this one looked exactly as I imagined it should be, with a little more paint and colour. It keeps getting burnt down because of all the forest fires, so a lot of the areas we saw were actually quite new. Brand new mosaic’s aligning the walls, telling bible stories and the life of the Virgin Mary. And the church itself, within the monestary was something else. There was gold, everywhere. Chandelier’s hanging from the ceiling, connected each with their very own ostrich egg between the chandelier and the ceiling (?). Yeah, I didn’t fully hear what the tour guide said about those. I was too busy staring at the ostrich eggs thinking “what are those there for?”. It was all a bit blue peter. But it did all come together extremely well. You couldn’t help but be overwhelmed, which I suppose is kind of the point. It reminded me a bit of Donald Trump’s place (y’know, it was on the Apprentice). But more God.

Anyway, as much as I probably don’t sound it, I was very impressed with the Monestary, and its surroundings, and it was great to see the monk’s walking about the grounds, one running through the monestary shouting excuse me, excuse me… just like in the films with those prophecies

We stopped at the monestary for about 90 minutes. Time enough to get some food, and get conned by the nearby stalls selling “gifts” and stuff like that In true tradition, I bought some Cyprus Delights for your lucky folks back home. I say tradition, because Chris Dann at work went to Cyprus last year, and he bought some Cyprus Delights for everyone at work. So I stole the idea. I hope you all liked them, I can’t remember if I did

And because it was a crazy market stall kind of arrangement, buy 2 get 1 free! Bargain. Not only that. Kiwi Liqeur. 25 cents cheaper than it was in the monestary! (when I got it back to the hotel, I peeled back the label to find another marked £3.00 underneath. Those money-grabbing monks!

We left the monestary, and headed back towards Limassol, but not before stopping at the Central Square. A large area slap bang in the centre of the Troodos mountains. Also, largely under construction, which kinda ruined it a bit I’m sure it will be lovely when it’s finished.

I walked round more market stalls, tempted to get some more Cyprus Delights. Buy 3, get 1 free! Bargain! I looked down at the carrier bag with 3 boxes of Cyprus Delights and thought 7 boxes would be rather excessive.

I noticed a nice little dirt track that led off into the middle of nowhere. Being the exploring type, and still having 20 minutes to spare in the middle of Construction Square, I decided to take a little walk. Well worth it, and offered some fantastic (and quiet) views of Mount Olympus and the rest of the mountain range. Hopefully got some nice panoramic photos from up there.

When I came back to “civilisation” I sat down with a couple from the tour opposite one of the coffee shops, where one of our other fellow tourists was arguing with the people inside. He stormed off towards the coach and shouted “racists!” back at them. When we got back to the coach, he was still arguing, this time apparantly to himself at the back of the coach “I’m going to northern Cyprus tomorrow, I bet the Turkish are a lot more friendly up there!”

On the way back, the two old northern women sitting behind me starting to chat about anything they could possibly think of. And the woman in front slyly stuck her head around the seats “are you english?”, she whispered to me. “Yes”, I whispered back wanting to say “do you have the plans?” or something more clever and spy-like such as “The brown goose flocks to Spain during the Winter blight”. “Don’t ye have ear ache?” she grinned at me. I hadn’t really taken it in until that point, but yes, the women behind WERE recounting their life story. And yes goddamnit, as members of the front of the coach (and so there before they were), we were all perfectly entitled to laugh at them about it – as long as we were quiet when we started.

So, this couple in front from Bolton had been arguing about which tours they should go on, before finally agreeing on one today – which is abruptly cancelled, and they were transferred to the Troodos Mountains. Ahhh, the beauty of travelling alone. No whining about “but, *I* wanted to see the seals!”, or stuff like that. Actually seeing seals would be pretty cool.

They told me about their 3 day excursion they took to Egypt. Something I had been vaguely considering myself (with no real intention of doing – gotta do it justice by having enough time in Egypt, when I eventually go). You spend the first day travelling there, and sleep on the boat. Then they rush you in Cairo for 7.30am, give you about 20 minutes to look at the Sphynx and the pyramids for a “oh look, that’s nice”. Armed police escort, all the way. You also get to go down the Nile a bit, where you can apparantly see such wonders as “dead horse in the river”, presumeably shortly before they serve up lunch. Well, they made it sound terrible – but still say it was well worth the 150 quid each for the experience. And I agree, it does have to be done. Just not yet

Geez, is it just me, or are these entries getting longer? Maybe I should write about less that happens. Bugger it, maybe I shouldn’t include these interludes.

So into Limassol, and the first stop, the guy who was arguing a lot gets off by his hotel, storms off the coach complaining about how nobody spoke to him the whole journey. Uhhhh, bit late now dude. The couple in front of me told him at the first stop that I was on my own too, and maybe he should speak to me. Glad he didn’t. As delightful a guy as I’m sure he is I mean, come on? I’m not exactly the most outspoken person on the planet either – but if he was that miffed about no-one speaking to him … he could have started up a conversation with anyone. It’s not hard when you’re on holiday “Are you English?” usually gets y’foot in the door, and you don’t need much else. I hope he enjoys northern cyprus.

And, well, that’s my trip I have another one booked tomorrow, to go see the archaeological sites on the way to Pafos, and possibly spend a bit of time in Pafos itself.

Since it’s still kind of early yet – I’m going to go and look around the hotel a bit more. I haven’t really seen the pool or the bar yet, and I figure that’s a good place to go, since I have another early start tomorrow morning.

Bye for now

Well, both yesterday and today were spent wandering around the area between here (the Amathus area) and the inner city of Limassol. So it’s fitting that I combine both days into one blog entry. I started yesterday marginally unimpressed with Cyprus. Sure it has beautiful weather, really nice beaches, and a clear blue very calm sea. But I was tired, stuck in the middle of the tourist area on a long road that looked a bit like a crap Vegas strip. Bar, restaurant, hotel, mini mart, bar, restaurant, hotel, mini mart, strip bar, bar, restaurant, hotel … And so on and so on for several miles. I’ve never been on the typical beach holiday, sun sand and sea before and that’s part of the reason for taking this trip. So I can’t really say it’s not what I was expecting. I just don’t want it to be everything

But the longer I spend here, and the more I look around the more I like Cyprus (or rather Limassol, the rest of Cyprus is still a mystery). It’s 4 miles into the centre of Limassol. But it’s amazing how quickly that 4 miles can go when it’s scattered with regular breaks of cafe’s and benches overlooking the sea. I found a really nice park near the harbour, full of palm trees, statues and sculptures, looks across the sea, with plenty of shaded areas to break from the sun. It’s also, *full* of cats. I’d seen a few strays wandering about already, they’re not neutered in Cyprus, so they have a bit of a problem with strays. The thing is, a lot of these cats look good, really good in fact. I can’t count the number of cats I saw that I thought “oh oh, I want that one!” … Sadly Ali (that’s my housemate) wasn’t there, else I would’ve undoubtedly asked the obvious question “can I keep it??”. Apparantly they were bought to Cyprus around 324, by St Helena, because she found the island overrun with poisonous snakes. Hmmm, cute cats, or poisonous snakes. Tough choice for your troublesome “pest”.

So anyway, history lesson over, big families of cats, lots of kitten looking animals and one older mum-looking cat wandering around in packs, all appearing out of the stones that line this particular part of the sea.

It wasn’t long before I found out why so many of them looked so healthy. That’s when I met Crazy Cat Man. He was strolling down the path with a big carrier bag clutched tightly to his chest. I heard a lot of mewing noises and a huge flood of cats appeared from nowhere running under my bench towards Crazy Cat Man and the wall where he’d scattered some food. “Looks like you caught their attention, what are you feeding them?” I asked, cleverly. “Cat food” he replied. “Ah” I said, and off he went, like a man with a carrier bag of cat food on a mission to feed more cats.

While I sat there and read my book (The Concrete Blonde by Michael Connelly – highly recommended holiday reading) – I saw a number of other Crazy Cat People feeding the cats. Fortunately none of them were good looking mid-20′s women, else I would undoubtedly have made an even further fool of myself by strolling up to them and announcing “hey, bet that’s cat food you’ve got there. In fact, I bet you a drink, since I met the Crazy Cat Man King just minutes ago”.

So, leaving the whole cat thing behind for a while. So far, I’ve found the Limassol castle. It’s tiny on the outside, but HUGE on the inside, with a surprising number of large rooms containg artifacts from the 9th century and onwards. Probably older if I was paying more attention – but at only one pound for entry fee, I didn’t need to stick around too long to get my money’s worth

I found the shopping centre. Lace is apparantly in this year, in Cyprus. If you don’t want me to bring back some as your present from this holiday, speak now If you do want me to bring you back some lace from this holiday, I’m not really sure what I’m looking for, so you still might be out of luck. The other thing that kept drawing my eye was Lipton’s “NEW” Iced Tea – GREEN flavoured. Mostly because the bottles kept jumping out at me saying “look at me, I’m mountain dew”, when it blatantly wasn’t. Still, very nice all the same And it’s green tea, so it’s good for you. Because it’s green.

I also found the town hall (I think), Djami Kebir (Large Mosque) – they wouldn’t let me in on account of wearing shorts, the market, a big industrial area full of workshops, truck parts and general metal work, a really cool old-looking water tower, the old docks, and lots of other church and mosque looking places.

I stayed in Limassol until sunset this evening, because of the curve of the beach it looks much nicer from the centre than from the Amathus area. And being a sucker for sunsets, what choice did I have? Which did mean finding my way back along the beachside road to my hotel after dark. I remember my mum saying “you’d better not walk that journey on your own after dark”. Feeling rather sheepish and little guilty, I kind of did do that. As I was walking along a wooded park area in the dark, I realised just how safe Cyprus appears to be. There was no feeling of being threatened, no drunk people staggering along the path singing away (okay, okay, it was only 8 – but you’d still get that in Watford – you certainly did in Prague). But rather, there were mothers pushing prams, and couples walking along the beach. I passed one unlit playground, where a mother stopped to let her kid play on the climbing frame.

I wonder if they’re all putting on a show, but there are friendly people everywhere you turn. I know it’s a cliché, all the guide books say it too – but it’s true

So anyway, I’m walking along this beach-side path against my mother’s wishes… She also told me about a delicacy in Cyprus that was absolutely forbidden to try. Apparantly they catch Robin’s and other small birds in some fly paper style arrangement, and cook ‘em up as a delicacy.

So, I’d already broken rule number 2; I was thinking “how can I try this delicacy, and not break the promise I made to my mum?” And that’s when I noticed KFC. They’ll serve anything there, as long as it’s not chicken. I could eat Robin, and not know it – so technically I’m guilt-free, right? Firstly let me digress (done enough of that already, right?) – The american restaurant count currently stands at 4. McDonald’s, Burger King, Pizza Hut, and KFC. I’ve also seen a Pizza Express, countless American/English/Irish themed pubs (The Shakespeare Pub I think it was called, it had a phone box outside. There’s a picture on my camera). Sadly I’ve yet to come across a Subway, nor have I found Mountain Dew (damn you Green Tea!). Another thing I’ve yet to find is someone who doesn’t speak perfect English. There’s none of the “do you speak english?” I had to ask so much in Prague. They can tell by my pasty white skin that I’m obviously not from ’round here. But anyway, KFC. I had it, it probably wasn’t chicken, but in all honesty it probably wasn’t robin either. Making the whole exercise a little pointless, and wasting an entire meal on fast food I can get anywhere. Almost. The one good thing about this KFC is it served biscuits, americacn stylee So, I was full, and satisfied about being able to get the salty english muffin / scone hybrid that I haven’t had since leaving America.

It wasn’t until I’d finished I realised the C, had probably stood for Cat. Damn.

It didn’t help when, as this thought entered my mind, two cats sauntered past the front door of KFC. They were probably looking for food. Cannibals. I imagined some poor KFC employee running after them with a net, and headed back towards the hotel with a full stomach.

Anyway, time to go to bed I think – I have to be out front of the Navarria Supermarket tomorrow morning at 8.25 sharp. The coach leaves for the Troodos Mountains, and my first excursion out of Limassol – where I *hope* to find some Cypriots that don’t speak English better than me.

I last left this as I was heading towards alcohol at Heathrow. The only exciting thing that happened there was I discovered the free sample man standing out the front, offering samples of bailey’s caramel and chocolate mint

The only other giggle I got along the way was the choice of logo for Cyprus Airlines. I get it, they want to use a traditional symbol and all. But you see, the symbol they chose was a goat. Apparantly it’s a wild goat native to the Cyprus mountains. Because of the whole flying theme that’s usually associated with airlines, they’ve added a kind of wing look where it’s arse / back would usually be. Personally, for me, and I could be wrong – but a goat is not on my top 10 list of “animals and creatures most likely to be associated with flying”. They can jump, I suppose, which is better than choose a rhino, or an elephant. Isn’t there an american airline that uses an eagle? Not just because it’s a national symbol, but BECAUSE IT CAN FLY. Goats, as we all well know, CAN’T FLY. If Wales had an airline (god forbid) – would they adopt a sheep for their logo, because it can do that hop skip game that kids play? Hopefully, no. I wonder, are there other strange choices like this out there?

Anyway, rant over – more importantly, I arrived safely in Cyprus at 4.45am this morning. Feeling rather sleepy, I staggered through passport control, somehow stood upright while waiting for my luggage, and made my way through customs. Stepping out of the airport at around 5.15, it was really quite dark and not a lot going on except every now and then a coach would appear and deposit some more british tourists before they disappeared into the terminal and presumeably onto a flight back to England. Most people from my flight took one look at the sign of directions where they could go and went on their merry way. Apparantly they all had plans on how they were going to get to their hotels, and get on with some catching up on sleep. Bastards. Well, I had a plan too, so I made my way to the inter-city bus stop just round the corner and checked the timetable. Okay, so there was another 3 hours to go before the first bus even looked like it would be in Larnaca, let alone make it to the airport. So out came the book and I made myself comfortable in the much appreciated fresh air.

After five minutes, somone came out of his car (or taxi?) nearby to ask me “where are you going?” “Limassol.” I replied. “oh” said the man, as he wandered off shaking his head.

Another 20 minutes goes by, and someone pulls up in his red taxi and asks me “where are you going?” Again, I reply, “Limassol”. “oh” says the man. He waited a beat and asked “Do you want a taxi?” I’m at a bus stop at this point, the taxi rank is about 30 seconds walk away. “No thanks”, I reply. Knowing full well a taxi to Limassol is 30 pounds compared for 3 pounds for a bus, I decided to wait.

As soon as he pulls away, another car pulls up “service taxi?”. “Huh?”. “Service taxi, I take you to the office, they take you to limassol”. “How much?” “About 8 pounds”. “Sure”

So in I got, grateful to be on the move, and away from the dark airport, but still quite sure I was going to end up waiting somewhere else instead, either for this mythical service taxi, or so I could check-in at the hotel. But true to his word, the kind Cypriot who chatted in lots of English I didn’t really understand took me to an office. Where there was more waiting. And eventually I ended up inside a mini bus type thing to hold 7 people, speeding around Larnaca picking up people from the beach, their homes, or next to the Solar powered phone box (that thing was cool!).

Got to the Navarria Hotel around 9am, where the guy at the front desk checked me in straight away and sent me up to my room.

So I figured, what the helll – it’s still early, if I have a nap now, I still stand a chance of being fine from the whole jetlag standpoint. So I did

I’ll leave it there for now, cos this is already huge. I’m sure you need a break every bit as much as me